


Drowning

by heavenclarence



Series: Drowning [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Romance, Sad Ending, Troffy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenclarence/pseuds/heavenclarence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew it was too good to be true.</p><p>The muted waves rolled in slowly; the clouded ocean staining the soft, dull grains of sand; pulling them back into the chaos of the depths. Imprints of words and footsteps formerly drawn into the sodden ground being washed away. Pleasant memories disappearing in the blink of an eye. The fluid, repetitive structure of the waves.</p><p>Back and forth. Back and forth.     </p><p>In a way, it reminded him of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, hi! This is my first fanfiction on this site, I really hope you enjoy it? If you do be sure to leave a comment or something? Gosh, I sound like I'm advertising my youtube channel. This work hasn't been beta'd so there might be some issues with it that I haven't picked up on? If that's the case be sure to hit me up and I'll try to correct it! The lines separate the past from the present so it isn't confusing!
> 
> There will be a few more parts of this story that will be arriving in the next couple of months; they're going to be scenes from this fanfiction in more detail, which I think would be nice! 
> 
> I'm gonna let you read now, whoops. I hope you enjoy!

He _knew_ it was too good to be true.

The muted waves rolled in slowly; the clouded ocean staining the soft, dull grains of sand; pulling them back into the chaos of the depths. Imprints of words and footsteps formerly drawn into the sodden ground being washed away.

Pleasant memories disappearing in the blink of an eye. The fluid, repetitive structure of the waves.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

In a way, it reminded him of them.

* * *

 

At first, he didn't know if he could share the feelings that were thrust upon him.

He was unsure; scared witless of what others would think. He didn’t want to be attracted to men; especially not to his best friend. He wasn’t even sure he could be romantically attracted to anyone; he had repressed those types of feelings years ago, not wanting them to get in the way of his life, or at least that's what he told himself.

To him, this was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened. Behind his flirty, confident exterior he had become a discontent mess; ready to implode at any second, he was dangerous. He couldn't look after himself, let alone be in a relationship with anyone. His sexuality had always been something that bothered him; he was never sure if he was gay, straight or something inbetween. From an early age he had been taught that anything that even slightly strayed away from society's idea of ‘normal’ was wrong. Disgusting. That didn't matter anymore, though. Well, at least he thought it didn’t.

It didn't matter that he tried to distance himself after the first confession, before crawling back to the confused and hurt man, asking for friendship and nothing more, trying to assure himself that he wasn’t like his family. He couldn’t be. It didn't matter that he had blatantly ignored the increasing tension between them; a tension that, to him, felt like a volcano about to erupt, spewing hatred and violence, hurting all living being around it. But, he couldn’t bring himself to care. None of that mattered at all. He had fallen completely in love and at first, he wasn't sure he knew it.

After the first confession, he had started noticing the small things about his friend, things that he hadn't noticed before. The emotions that crossed his face whenever he talked about something he enjoyed. The smile that reached his eyes when he found something funny. The smile that gave him butterflies. He couldn't stop noticing these things. To him, they were proof he was a monster, he was being tempted by something that he could've had. Something he rejected. He didn't want to nice these things, but he couldn't stop. He yearned to be the one that made the other man smile, to make him laugh. He thought these thoughts were a curse. He wanted to be cured. He needed to stop whatever was happening before it truly became too much. Isolating himself was what he had thought to be the only thing he could do, so that's what he attempted. He wished he could have confessed too. He wished that they could have been free together.

He tried and tried to separate himself from his friend. However, this was impossible. Not only because the other man was his co-worker, but because he didn't want to stop seeing him. He wanted to be there with him, holding him, touching him, telling him he loved him. But, he believed he had missed his chance. He had to settle with being friends, now. He wasn't sure he wanted that. He hated the feeling that he could see something so clearly, but he couldn't reach out to touch it. It was breaking him.

He tried sleeping with another man. A man that wanted him. A man that had a girlfriend. A man that helped him forget. But, he just felt bad. Bad for using him, but he still went back. Over and over and over again he used him. He was so sincere. He knew the other man loved him. He knew they had to stop. It was the other man that stopped it. He must have known. Known that he was doing. Known that as he pressed kisses into his skin he was thinking about somebody else. 

His emotions were burning like a raging fire, refusing to cool down, destroying everything in their path, including him. He needed to put the fire out, he needed to drench his desires, before they engulfed him. Before they swallowed him whole. It was times like this when he wished he didn't have the knowledge about alcohol that he did. He knew exactly what to drink that would get him obliterated. He didn't want to remember. He wanted to forget. Every emotion needed to leave his body before he exploded. Every moment he spent with the other man he needed to forget with six shots. He could control the amount he drank. It made him feel safe. He didn't have to worry when he was drunk. He didn't have to feel. It made him feel better. So, he drank more. It became routine. He would go to work, come home, lock himself in his bedroom and then drink. It was easy. He didn't need to hurt. People began to notice, of course. They noticed the change in his behaviour first; the smile that wasn't quite right, the dark circles that resided under his eyes and the way he stared at the other man when he wasn't watching. Many of them tried to support him; tried to help, but, he just brushed them off. Claiming that he was fine, he was just tired. The excuses came quickly and easily. He didn't want help. He didn't want to stop. He was slipping further and further into himself. The light was no longer visible anymore. It was the end. He was going to drown.

* * *

 Looking out, he lets out a small sigh, leaning against the metal bar that protected him from the ocean.

His ginger hair blowing around rapidly as the wind picks up, causing him to shiver in his jacket slightly.

He watches as the waves pick up, disrupted by the harsh air.

* * *

 

The second confession was different.

Different in so many ways.

The other man had finally confronted him; gripping his arms tightly, demanding to know what was wrong with him; what he was doing to himself. In response, all he could do was cry. He completely broke down, sobs leaving his body violently, the urge to vomit building up inside him. The defenses that he had built were finally crumbling down and he knew that he was going to crumble with it. For a moment, he thought that maybe this was a good thing; maybe his friend still felt that same way about him. Maybe he still loved him. He knew that was just wishful thinking, however. He was a monster. He didn't deserve to be loved. He couldn't be loved. He deserved to be hurt. He wanted to be hurt; he wanted the other man to reject him, just as he had before. He needed something to push him. To push him closer to the edge.

His heart raced in his chest, desperately pumping blood around his body as he took deep breathes in an attempt to calm himself, tearing out of the comforting grip that was burning his very insides, threatening to fix him. "What are you doing to yourself, Alex?"

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Four simple words, barely audible. "I l-love you, Chris." He stutters, a response to the other man's question. A weight was lifted from his heart, he could breathe again. He knew what was coming now, though. He knew that rejection was almost certain, now. Loving him would be impossible. He was imperfect. A selfish mess. But, the brunette just stood there for a second, looking at the broken man before him, unable to see the imperfections that were enveloping him. Chris just saw the purest, most beautiful light he had ever seen. The person he had loved since childhood. In that moment, they were finally together. They were going to be happy.

* * *

 The ocean sprays him slightly, but he refuses to move, the water crashing against the rocks almost violently, echoing the turmoil inside.

Alex closes his eyes, knowing what he has to do, knowing that it won't be easy.

Not for him. Not for anybody.

* * *

 

Things got better after that.

It took a long time for Alex to fully sober up. His alcohol dependency obviously couldn't clear up overnight.

He struggled. God, did he struggle.

But, eventually, he was okay. He could feel again.

The first emotion he felt was anger. He was so angry. Angry at himself, mostly. Alex didn't understand how he left himself become like he had. He had always had a certain sense of pride, he knew he wasn't particularly below average and he liked that. He enjoyed being quick witted and passionate. He liked having knowledge. But when he looked at himself in the mirror then, he didn't see himself. He saw someone weak, useless and pathetic. He hated it. He hated the way his coworkers would tiptoe around him like he was going to break at any moment, the soft, patronising looks they would give him. The questions he knew they asked about him when he left a room. "Smith?" He hadn't realised that he had smashed the mirror, shards of broken glass scattered around the bathroom, his bloodied fist clenched. Chris came rushing in, cleaning it up in an instant, taking care of Alex. Treating his wounds. Making sure he was okay.

It was in these moments, he knew Chris loved him.

Other emotions came in a rush afterwards.

Alex found himself barking out a laugh at his friends jokes, laughing so hard until he was crying, unable to control the excitement inside himself. It was overwhelming how happy he could be. How happy he wanted to be. He noticed that as he got happier, Chris did too. They could talk without Alex breaking down halfway through a sentence. Without him getting angry for no reason, and Chris loved that. He loved Alex. He loved him so much. He was so glad that he was happy, finally. Alex, in return, loved Chris. Love was an emotion that now took over his life. He didn't have to repress it. He could love the other man with all of his being without feeling guilty. It was almost sickening how much Alex loved Chris. They didn't have to hide it. They were utterly enamoured with each other, they had no shame.

He wanted to show people he truly loved his partner. Whispering sweet nothings into Chris' ears, their hands entwined as the other man blushes, holding in a giggle as Alex's breath ghosts his ear. Their coworkers and friends would laugh and joke, claiming they were putting on a show, telling them to get a room. Despite this, they were unbelievably grateful that they had each other. That they were content. It was more they would ever ask for. When they were alone, it was different. Sweet nothings became heated whispers. They would tease each other, urgently pressing kisses into any skin they could find, claiming territory. They became one being. One flesh. Hands roaming their bodies, exploring each other vigorously, wanting to know everything about their partners. Pleasure becoming their one goal, their tongues entwined as they embraced, wanting to desperately reach Heaven.

It was perfect.

* * *

 He considers his options for a moment, opening eyes as he scans the rough sea.

He wonders what Chris would say.

He wonders if Chris would scold him, if he would hold him tightly and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

If he would tell him everything was going to be okay. He wished Chris would do that for him.

Just once more.

* * *

 

They had been together around four years when it happens. When things finally turned sour. Neither of them could control it. Alex blamed himself, incorrectly . Alex thought if he had just been a better boyfriend he would have been able to fix everything. It wouldn't have happened. He could have fixed it all. He gets a phone call at five thirty in the afternoon. He ignores it, trying to get his work done before he can finally go back to his apartment with Chris.

Alex knew Chris hadn't been feeling well,so he had taken on his editing in an attempt to make his partner get some rest. Chris had a habit of overworking, making himself sick with stress. He sighs as his phone rings again, and he picks it up, finally, unaware of the conversation that was about to happen. Chris had fainted. Alex had knew he had been nauseous. He should have made sure he had made it home okay. He should have taken him home, tucked him into bed, pressed a kiss onto his forehead and told him how much he loved him. But, he hadn't. Chris had fainted. He had fainted and somehow managed to fall down three flights of stairs. The lift hadn't been working that day, it was always breaking down. Alex had been meaning to write a letter of complaint to the building owner.

Chris had suffered a severe head injury. Chris was in a coma. The doctors told him the same thing over and over again. They're emotionless as Alex stays glued to Chris' side, his hand in his. The doctors don't know when he'll wake up. They don't say 'when', though. They say 'if'. But, Alex knows he'll wake up. He _**has**_ to wake up.

He speaks him constantly, telling him things he had never told anyone. Updating Chris on everything he needs to know for when he wakes up. Alex dreams about it sometimes. He dreams about hearing that teasing voice next to him, the brown eyes of his partner flickering open, observing the hospital room around him, confused. Telling Alex he loves him. Sometimes the dreams are different. Sometimes Chris wakes up and hates him, claiming it's his fault. Alex knows Chris is right. His heart fails almost two months in. They try to save him, but there's nothing they can do. Chris' body shuts down quickly and the doctors assure him that he can't feel a thing, and that he's better off this way. Alex wasn't even there for him.

* * *

 The ocean swallows him whole.

Air escapes his lungs, as his body thrashes around in an attempt to save itself.

It's too late now, though. Alex knows it is.

He can feel himself slipping away.

He knows now he can be with his love once more.

For a second, he is almost certain he feels Chris next to him. Holding him once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, that's it. 
> 
> I honestly couldn't imagine any other ending for this story, which sucks because I would have loved for them to be happy :-( 
> 
> As I said before please leave a review or something if you enjoyed it! (or even if you didn't, haha)
> 
> Thanks for giving this a read!


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